One Weekend
by thubar2000
Summary: Misato gives Shinji two gifts. One is a lottery ticket, which leads to a strange weekend. The end wraps back to the beginning. ACC. Finished.
1. Please Leave All Bags

Author's note: Based loosely on Sadamoto's "Evangelion" manga, which is owned by Gainax.

In the darkened kitchen, the school issued laptop bathed the boy in a lurid green light. Ikari Shinji sat contemplating his minimalist start:

Draft Report

by Ikari Shinji

Behind a wall of paperwork, a powerful snore choked and stuttered. Shinji stood and glanced over the stacked triplicate forms to see his guardian sleeping in her arms. Empty cans of Yebisu lay scattered nearby. Shinji sighed and entered the living room to pick up a blanket. On the way back to the kitchen, he glanced at the closed door to his former room. Asuka still wasn't back from Hikari's place. The boy slipped the blanket over the woman's shoulders and then plucked the phone from its carriage. He dialed the Horaki number.

"Hello?" asked the voice of his class representative pleasantly.

"Hello? This is Shinji. Is-"  
"You've got a lot of nerve calling here! You vile perv!" the distant voice snarled.

"W-well-" Shinji stammered.

"After what you did, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Hikari continued.

"Maybe this is a bad time," Shinji suggested. He winced as the phone slammed. He gently hung up. The pilot rubbed his ear before returning to his seat opposite of the sleeping woman. Since there wasn't anything else to do, he began typing.

One Weekend

1. Please Leave All Bags and Normalcy at the Counter

I deny any unlawful, carnal knowledge of the girl named Ito Midori. That is what the Intelligence Division 2 agent called it. Kensuke said that I should deny everything, but I can't. They have the photos. I didn't count on the paparazzi, nobody counts on the paparazzi.

Misato needs the final draft by tomorrow evening. Just write what's on your mind, she said. You should begin at the beginning. We can clean it up later. She then passed out.

Begin at the beginning.

This particular mess began at 6:00 PM Thursday, five days ago. We were headed home from NERV when Misato got the attack of the Munchies. She swung her Renault Alpine up to the driveway of the AM-PM. She wore a tank top, shorts, and a cap with her ponytail pulled through the back. It was one of her more innocuous outfits. I went for a bottle of fruit milk and packet of beef jerky. Misato picked up a six pack of Heineken and fried octopus puffs. I lined up behind her.

The boney teen didn't look really look up when she asked. "Oh, you're together, right? You and your son?"

"Son?" Misato asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, your kid," the girl answered. Her attention was still riveted to an idol magazine. She moved her neon blue fingernails from a fat,scarlet zit to the cash register, and absentmindedly rang up the purchases. Misato grabbed a small packet from a stand beside the counter and then seized me in an one-armed embrace.

"I'll take this, too," Misato sang as she handed the choice to the clerk. It was the size of a single piece of candy. "Shinji-dear, what numbers do you want tonight? My treat."

"My luck isn't too good," I said while trying to pull in a breath.  
"Just pick six, any six."  
I named off the first three off the top of my head. The month, day, two digit year, and Misato's three measurements. One of them was pressed against my face. The last three numbers were often quoted by Touji and Kensuke in ecstatic tones.

The clerk briefly glance from the magazine to tap out two lotto tickets and rang up the purchase.

"Wait a moment," the clerk squawked as she finally took notice.

My legal guardian and commander took the opportunity to flourish her choice before my eyes; it read "extra-strong, lubricated, and ribbed for her pleasure". Misato deposited the contraceptive device into my breast pocket. Misato handed me the ticket, bent over, and sealed the gift with a pretend kiss that hit all air. Still, it left the pimply clerk gawking and me blushing.

"Come along, honey," Misato said. I paid for my purchases, careful not to make eye contact with the clerk who gave me a hard look. I got into to the car. "You're blushing, that's so cute," she said as I entered.

I dug out the condom and tried to give it back to her. She took it out of my hand and shoved it back into my pocket.

"No, not me," she said with a sweet smile. "At least not tonight. Be sure to keep it, though, you never know when it might come in handy."

I tried to stammer a comeback, but couldn't think of one. Misato sang along with the radio on the way back. She was even in tune most of the time. I suppose that being sober and that it was "Witch Doctor" song helped.

*****

Thursday night was still ordinary. At home, Asuka slouched in front of the TV. She channel surfed while maxing out her mouth space with chips and green dip. I'm not sure what it was, but it was green.

"Hello," Misato called before heading straight for the shower. "Anyone need the bathroom?"

"Hi," I said as I put away the four remaining beer bottles.

"Welcome back," Asuka replied nonchalantly.

By some chance, she turned to the channel that showed the nightly drawing. She tossed the remote onto the couch as she rose.

"One moment," she called to the bathroom. "I need to use the WC." (1)

I pulled out my ticket. I had no expectations. The fridge clunked open then closed. Pen-Pen plunked down on my right carrying a bottle of the imported hops. He dug into the abandoned chips. A towel-clad Misato plopped on my left with another green bottle. Three of the numbers had come up. They were two of three of Misato's measurements. Six, six, and one soon followed. My heart thumped. Twenty-six. Five of six wasn't bad.

"Meh," the woman said in disgust.

"You don't have your ticket, how do you know your number?" I asked.

"I always play the same number," she replied. She looked down at my ticket. "How do you know my sizes?" she asked.

"Laundry," I answered.

"I suppose that answers it," Misato said and headed back into the vacated bathroom with her beer. "Lucky little bastard," she whispered under her breath, though not unkindly.

I hastily tucked my ticket into my pocket as Asuka reclaimed her place. She snagged the remote from my hand and the taro chips from Pen-Pen. He squawked indignantly. She might have still been a bit moody from the other day; it might have still been the aborted kiss and letter thing. It was hard to tell with her.

I went to my room to use my laptop. The government site was up. I followed a few links and found that the pay-off was 70,000 yen after I factored in two-thirds income tax. It's been said that Americans fork over less than half of their take in tax, but I'm not THAT gullible.

"Soooo faithful," Asuka chided from open the door. "If you don't watch out, you'll become another honors student."

"Just checking on something," I said. "Want to come in?"  
"Why would I want to do that?" she asked as she stepped into my closet. She chugged a can of cola.

"Hey, Asuka," I said. An idea flashed into my head.

"What?"

"We've got Saturday off, next week. No school, no NERV."  
"Duh. News flash."  
"Do you want to eat out? My treat."

"Do I get to pick where?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about a little Italian place, Guido's. It has the best tiramisu."

"Alright, then."  
"Why are you being so nice?" Asuka asked suddenly, a little suspicious.

"Think of it as a peace offering," I answered. It was the truth.

"I'll buy that," she said as she backed out of my closet.

And so I set myself up for a downfall.

Footnotes

(1) The shower and water closet can "clearly hear each other". Those are Asuka's words. She made a big stink about it until she was able to convince us to clear out of the one whenever she used the other. When I'm in the shower, Misato uses the can whenever she wants. I can't imagine myself stopping her. She told me that I could do the same, but that just seems wrong, somehow.


	2. Prelude to a Lunch

My brain is beginning to fail, and my thoughts are wandering. My keystrokes are starting to get jumbled up. The kanji is starting to blur on the screen, so I figured that I would activate the microphone.

Testing, testing. 3... 2... 1...

Alright, lets get on with this.

One Weekend

2. Prelude to a Lunch

Friday was bright and sunny. I tried not to think of Saturday afternoon. I tried not to dwell on it, but I dwelt on it between math and science and between science and English and inbetween the betweens. I thought of it even as I walked home with Touji and Kensuke.

I wondered what she would order. I wondered what witty observations we would make. I wondered what she would wear. Asuka's personality #2 could be absolutely adorable. I dared to wonder if strangers would glance at us once or twice.

At first, I was surprised that she agreed so easily, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that should have not been a surprise. We were just having lunch together; nothing more. That was on my mind when I heard Touji mention: "Shinji, tree."

I looked up in time to apply a nose brake against the bark.

"What's your malfunction Private Ikari?" Kesuke demanded. He had demanded that once every day after he had seen "Full Metal Jacket".

"Nothing," I replied around my bleeding nose. I waved away a proffered kerchief and pressed my nose in my own.

"Hold your head between your legs," Touji suggested.

"How?" my nasal voice said.

"Let's find somewhere for you to sit."

We eventually found a park bench. A trace leaked into the back of my throat and left its ferric taste in my mouth. My phone rang. I managed fumbled it out.

"Hello?" I whined.

"What's wrong with your voice?" Asuka asked.

"Nose bleed."

"Oh, thinking those dirty thoughts about me were you?" a giggle sounded in the background.

"No, not at all."  
"I was just joking. Jeez, SOME people have NO sense of humor. Anyway, are on your way home?"

"Yeah."

"Well, couldya grab a six pack of soda for me and a bag extra-spicy wasabi peas on the way home?" she asked. "You want anything, Hikari?" she asked off phone. Hikari replied with a polite 'no.'

"Sure," I answered. It wasn't an unreasonable request. "Anything else?"  
"Barbecue me a heifer."  
"What?"

"Nevermind. Well, what are waiting for? Chop, chop. Tout de suite," she concluded playfully, then cut off abruptly.

"What was that about?" Kensuke asked.

"Just Asuka," I answered. "She asked me to pick up a thing or two from the store."

"You forget that we're dealing with a married man," Touji added.

"Stop that," I said.

*****

I had a bandaid across the scratch across the bridge of my nose. I had managed to clean off most of the dried blood off of the my face.

"You guys are outnumbered two to three," Asuka announced as we entered. Hikari across from Asuka with Pen-Pen on her lap. Hikari waved to us. Magazines and cans of juice sat on the coffee table.

"Why? Are you wide enough to count as two each?" Touji quipped and received a teen magazine in his face.

"You should never joke about a girl's weight," Hikari said coolly.

I dropped the bag of peas on the coffee table and went to put the drinks into the fridge. I ducked into my room for the CD that Touji had asked about. 

Misato cashed in my ticket and gave me left an envelope of colorful 1,000 and 5,000 yen notes on my desk. 72,300 yen. It made a nice fat wad. The average music CD costs 3,500 yen, while a decent burger goes for 700 yen. I figured that lunch with Asuka would probably set me back about 8,000 yen or so. She had left me a message on the receipt.

Hey, you got lucky with the ticket. Congrats! Good luck on getting lucky again!

Love, 

Misato

That reminded me of the condom that I had unwittingly left out on my desk. A knock sounded at my open door. I hastily crammed the incriminating evidence into the pocket of my jacket, which was sitting over my chair. The envelope went into my desk.

"Hey, Shinji," Hikari said at my door. "Asuka said that you might have a geometry book, I just need to check my equations for that derivation question."  
"I haven't gotten a chance to look at the problem set, yet."  
"It must be hard being an Eva pilot."  
"It's not easy," I agreed with a nervous grin. I pulled the study guide off of the shelf and handed it to her. Swinging the book over my desk wafted a thin scrap paper from my desk to the class rep's feet. She picked it up and handed it to me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to look," she said.

"It's, okay," I said and put the paper under a book. I remembered to pick up CD for Touji and ushered Hikari out of my room.

"Lotto," she said half under her breath. "So that's why you're taking Asuka out to lunch, to celebrate winning," she concluded cheerfully as we re-entered the living room.

"Who's taking the demon out to lunch?" Touji demanded, looking up from his mostly blank computer screen.

*****

Dinner had been a little uncomfortable. Asuka was annoyed that Hikari had spilled the beans. The class rep was a little subdued. Touji declared me a traitor to mankind and referred to me as Mr. Sohryu for the rest of the evening, which only caused Asuka to increase her already impressive volume. Kensuke bit and tore into his kerchief between bites of pizza. Pen-Pen sortied from his fridge and snagged a slice of anchovy pizza from the box before beating a hasty retreat.

I had penguin envy.

Later that night, I stared at the space debris streaking down over the half-darkened city. (2) Asuka had gone to sleep. I tried to concentrate on my homework, but was distracted. After everyone had left, I had asked her if we were still on for the next day.

"Of course, why ever not?" she asked. "Unless, you want to back out now."

"No, no," I insisted.

"You're so silly sometimes," Asuka said before ducking into the bathroom.

The night seemed so peaceful and calm.

(2) The gravitation from the Seventh Angel's incredible mass had trawled some space junk from their semi-stable orbits. A few of the pieces were large enough to be seen during re-entry. London, Boston, Paris, Moscow, and the other major cities had set up phased radar arrays and mobile missile batteries in case any large piece landed close. Kensuke told me about these measures.

The power grid was still partly off after the battle with the bug-eyed angel.


	3. How About Lunch at Guido's

Something tells me that if I had invited Ayanami Rei out to lunch, I would have saved myself a lot of grief. She was busy at Nerv that weekend, though. If I'm still around next week, she may be the only one who still will talk to me.

One Weekend

3. How about Lunch at Guido's and Afterwards

I met Asuka at the Shizensaigai Plaza, at the edge of the old city. I had gotten their early. She wore a dress that was the color of the onset of dusk and a white jacket. It was a cool and cloudy day. I wore a bone colored button down and slacks. I carried my jacket over my right arm.

The exterior of the mall was all white sheet metal, concrete, and glass, the inside of Guido's was all wood and warm light. The carpet and rough plaster walls absorbed the noise.  
"Table for two?" she asked.

"Yes. Ikari Shinji," I said.

"Come this way," the waitress said.

To my surprise, my mercurial companion hooked her arm through mine. I felt her warmth and smelled her perfume. The waitress led us to a booth for two, she flashed us a smile as she left. Asuka separated from me, and we sank onto the padded benches. 

"Isn't this cozy?" Asuka said. "Don't worry, it's not too expensive," she confided.

The waitress returned. "What will you have to drink?"

"Cranberry juice," Asuka said. "Drinking ages are so annoying."

"Grape juice," I said. I had considered cola, but opaque fruit juices it was.

The calamari was good. I ordered some pasta. I tried some of what she had, it was good, too. She liked the pasta. We talked easily and laughed a lot. I was too caught up in the surprising and good moments to really be surprised. By the time we were ready for coffee, I had memorized the shades in her blue eyes.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I brought along my jacket. I used the facilities and then washed my hands.

Who was that? I wondered. I finally had a moment to consider it. I couldn't comprehend it, I just felt really good. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my comb and breath freshener. While Touji had declared me a traitor to mankind, it had not prevented him from sharing a studly hint or two.

"Comb your hair," he said and then elbowed Ken into joining.

"Minty fresh breath," was all that the otaku managed to say, before Hikari dragged them away to escort her home.

I sprayed my mouth and then tried to settle a stray strand. I accidentally spritzed my hair with the mint spray and got a bit into my eyes. It took me a moment to stop tearing. I hoped that I had not upset my date, I mean, Asuka, by taking so long.

"Sorry, I took so long," I said.

It took me a full moment to fully let the silence sink in. Asuka sat with her hands clamped at her sides. I had missed a shade; thunderstorm gray.

"Baka!" she began. I winced. "Himmel donner wetter!" she shrieked as she stood up abruptly. She held her white jacket at the top of her chest as if shielding herself. It felt like sudden summer thunder that sends you running for shelter. Above the anger and names she called me, I was most surprised by the promise of rain, though it didn't fall. "What do you take me for?" she yelled. This wasn't how she got mean at Touji, even when she clocked him with a mean jab. I realized that was kid's stuff, dry heat. This was wet, I could hear it in her voice.

Pimpf. Schwanz-something or other. Feiger hund. Mach es dir something. She raged. I felt the pressure of several eyes, but I was transfixed by hers.

"What's wrong?" I asked. She threw the glass of ice water in my face in response, and then threw the glass at me. I put up my arms in time to protect myself. I was really confused until she threw down a small white packet on the table with a small slapping sound. I tried to grab her arm, but she elbow smashed me in the stomach and covered her face as she fled.

The waitress came over, almost as stunned as I was.

"Are you okay?" she asked me.  
"Damn," I groaned holding my gut. "Yeah, I'm okay." 

"Is there anything I can get up?" she asked. She probably meant a cold pack.

My brain must have frozen and given me the blue screen of death, because all I could say was "Check please."


	4. Spies Unlike Us

What I said about Ayanami Rei might not have been fair. It made her sound like she was in second place. I don't feel like that about her. Lately, I've felt more comfortable around her. I was really grateful when she asked me how I was. She really meant the question. We should do tea together again, sometime.

One Weekend

4. Spies Unlike Us

I vaguely remembered paying. I nearly left without the jinxed little packet, until the waitress handed it to me. She blushed when she realized what it was. I exited in a daze. I heard a man call out behind me. The large bearded man came out of Guido's with his hand raised. He wore a loud powder blue suit. An old woman ran into him and dumped a milk shake all over him. The granny began apologizing profusely.

At the same time, someone grabbed me around my shoulder. I've been a regular plush bear recently. The grabber was a twenty-plus year old man with a chiseled face and body to match his bronzed tan. I was about to protest until I felt a hard object on my shoulder; it was strapped to his side, underneath his blazer. I've seen too many ID 2 agents to not know that it was a semi. (3) Though the day wasn't hot and I had been doused with ice water, I was glad that I hadn't skimped on antiperspirant.

"Hey, buddy," he announced jovially as he steered me toward an escalator. "Been looking all over for ya.

"Play along," he whispered to me.  
"Yeah, good to see you, too," I emoted. "Sorry, lost track of the time."

"Listen," he said under his breath. He glanced around. The agent let go of me, though he still stood too close. We walked onto the next flight of moving steps. "You've been tailed. Go across the street. There's a little park with a dry fountain in the middle. There'll be another ID 2 agent there, called Baby Face."

"Baby Face?" I asked.

"You'll see what I mean," he said. "Go up and greet BF. BF'll pretend not to know you at first. Mention your name. Once our guy 'recognizes you', follow BF's instructions. Capice?"

"Yeah."

This agent was enjoying himself a little too much.  
"We'll split up, now. Head to the front exit," he concluded in a low breath. "Good to see ya again," he said aloud, then walked off the escalator at the second floor.

I continued to the front of the building. I was damp and wet, but I exited the building without attracting much attention. There were few pedestrians. The lights were on the blink, so I glanced both ways and crossed the light traffic.

I had seen backyards that were larger than the park. It was more of a green waiting room for the public WCs. (4) Could that be BF? A girl sat on the concrete bench close to a stone cherubim. The chubby angel held an dry jug over an empty fountain. I took the opportunity to wring out my shirt while I studied the figure. She looked like a junior in high school. Her back was turned to me. She chanted a single word over and over.

"Shinj shinji shinji shinji shinji shinji..." she said. "Where could you be?"

I stepped around the bench. "Hi," I said mustering my best smile. I had to pretend to know her.  
"Yes?" she said. The girl looked to be sixteen at most. She was thin, flat-chested, and roughly my height. Her long hair was pushed back by a plastic hair band. Her denim jacket and brown skirt were simple, and her boxy shoes were scuffed. Her full and dark eyes belonged more to a nocturnal animal than a person.

BF would deny knowing me, the other agent said. I glanced around. "Don't you remember me?" I asked. "I'm Shinji."

"Oh," she said with her eyes widening. "Sit down. How have you been? Why are you wet? Have you been drinking out of the toilet again?" she asked sternly.

I sat down cautiously, especially after the last question. I answered in a low voice. "Well, I'm being followed. I don't want to say how I got wet, but it wasn't from drinking from a toilet."  
"Okay," she said happily. "Well if you're being followed, then we'll just have to become Quiet, just like we used to. I've gotten lots better at it, though. Take off your shirt and give me your jacket."

BF pulled off her denim jacket and handed it to me. She pulled a handbag from beside her far leg. It was the size of a throw pillow and woven from cords, red and blue intertwined around the edges and yellow in the middle. A button bearing the Nerv red fig leaf on black clipped to her bag. That cinched it for me. She pulled out a plastic bag, pushed the wet shirt into it, and then let the handbag consume it all. I pulled on her denim and she wore my jacket.

"There, perfect fit," she said. "Now stand."

I stood.  
"Good boy," she said cheerily. "Now when I walk, match my step and mirror me."  
She stood and took a step. I matched her stride.

"Not quite," she said. "Watch my shoulders and the top of my head and how my hips move. You can't match my hips since you're a male, but if you half-turn. Half-turn to me," she ordered.

I tried. We walked a few steps and fell into rhythm.

"Good boy," she repeated. Did she think I was a dog? "Now walk."

I took a step and then another. She smiled.

"That's it," BF said in an over-bright tone, which was usually reserved for children and the simpleminded. She faced forward and so did I, mirror-imaging as she had said. "Friends and lovers match each others' postures. Down to the last step," the young-looking woman continued.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes. I've been watching people, so I'd know," she said.

We walked away from the the direction I had come.

"It's been a while, but it's been so much longer for you than for me. Can you remember my name?"

"Sorry, but I don't," I replied. I supposed that she was really into her role.  
"It's to be expected. It's Ito Midori."

"It's a nice name."  
"Thank you. I don't like it though," she answered. "Green, the color of envy.

"Shinji, I want you to know that I didn't abandon you, okay? I had to leave," Midori pleaded, looking very sad.

"I forgive you," I answered. It was the best thing that I could think of. This was a really strange agent. I wondered briefly if I had merely run into a drug-crazed high schooler, but it was too coincidental that she would be wearing a Nerv pin. She grabbed me by my arms before I could think further on it. Her momentum pulled us into capering circles; all the while, she happily sang the word "forgiveness" over and over.

We continued a half of a block like that before she stopped, and we walked normally again.

"Shinji?" she puffed, half out of air. "Let's go to Tokyo-2."

"Sure," I agreed breathlessly.

She paid for my ticket without giving me a chance to pull out my wallet and pulled me through the turnstile by my hand. I couldn't see how we were avoiding any enemy agents by being so conspicuous, but Ikari Shinji does not caper in the street with a strange girl. The railcar was half empty.

"Stand behind me," she ordered. "Put your hands on my shoulders. Stand closer to me."

I complied. I looked at her image in the glass as unfamiliar faces and white station slipped past. Her full eyes gazed out onto the speeding landscape. It was late afternoon. The ride took a little more than an hour.

"Once, an old man rubbed up against me, it was gross. But you're here now, Shinji."

She pulled an old-fashioned Walkman from her pocketbook and hung the headphones around her neck. She played it loudly enough for both of us to hear the moody fusion of electronic and traditional instruments. A woman sang in a language I could not understand; it might have been Celtic. It might not have been any language at all, but it was sad, and I told her so. She didn't answer but continued to stare out at the thick clouds and the occasional shaft of sunlight that managed to break through. Our reflections stared faintly back at us, but she looked right through them.

(3) I'm not a ballistics experts, but I've seen a few cop shows and hung around Ken the Great Otaku.

(4) WC = water closet or toilet or can as Misato affectionately calls it.


	5. Gun Shy

Disclaimer: Loosely based on Sadmoto's "Evangelion" manga. "Evangelion" is the property of Gainax. There is a character named Midori in Murakami's "Norwegian Wood", this Midori was inspired by her.

One Weekend  
5. Gun Shy

The monorail pulled into the Shibuya-2 station just as the two meter tall digital display flipped to 4:57 PM. Midori took took my hands off of her shoulders, but retained one hand as she marched out of the car. A small frown creased her mouth.  
"Is something wrong?" I asked.  
At the same time, I couldn't help but to look around for enemy agents.  
"Quietly," Midori said. "You mustn't look for them, it only encourages Them."  
She slackened her pace and let me match her stride. She released my hand.  
"Shinji?" she asked seriously. "Are you really my Shinji?"   
"Your Shinji?" I asked, the possessive confused me. I tried to play along as best as I could."Who else would I be?"  
"You're right, who else would you be," she answered with a sudden smile. "Trust me, my Shinji."  
I had to glance one more time at a mirror-shade store front. No one stuck out in the crowd. No one was even particularly athletic; many ID-2 agents must live at the gym. Some held shopping bags, returning from trips to Tokyo-3. A few had cameras and other tourist accessories.

"First, we need to get you out of those clothes," she said.  
"I think I'm dry now," I answered.  
"This won't do," Midori insisted. "It's Saturday, you'll stand out too much. Besides, I can dress you up like when we were little."  
She stopped abruptly. I walked past her, and she came up behind me to plow me forward with her hands to the middle of my back. The thin girl drove me into a sharp left hand turn. I let her propel me through a pair of glass doors. They hissed open, as did their twins beyond the vestibule. The doubled doors opened onto a balcony. A set of stairs on the left and a glass elevator to the right led to four open U-shaped levels suspended over a full ground level of clothes. The floors contained rows, columns, racks, shelves, and rings of hung, folded, and packaged clothes. A uniformed saleswoman bowed and greeted us. I bowed back and stumbled the the rest of the way into the store with Midori still at my back.  
We entered the glass elevator where another well dressed woman waited in the elevator.   
"Men's clothing, please," Midori said. The woman nodded and hit a button. The elevator descended a level.  
"Let's get you out of your pants, Shinji," Midori announced. I'm not sure if I liked the sound of that.  
Midori resolutely marched past the aisles of khakis, denim, and other sensible wear. Her ankle-length skirt flared and whispered around her legs. She turned and gave me an appraising eye, before turning her attention back to the kilometers of cloth. We skipped the voluminous day raver raiment and trucked past the skater boy gear. We halted before an indoor garden of day-glo and tie-dyed clothes. Midori shot out an arm and pulled out a pair of bell bottomed corduroys. My jaw loosened and sank low enough to insert a knuckle. Two delicate fingers lightly levered my chin up, until my teeth clicked lightly together  
. "Don't look that way. C'mon, please?" she wheedled with wide, moistened eyes. I knew that I was being was ruthlessly manipulated, but I couldn't hold out, not against those eyes. Besides, that brick wall of an agent had told me to follow her orders. "Pleeeaase, for old time's sake," she persisted.  
I relented and took the golden-brown pants. Midori reached for an alarming shade of purple.  
And the next thing I knew, I was wearing it. No one from Tokyo-3 would have recognized me. I barely recognized me. I lowered the rounded, iris blue lenses of my glasses to survey what had happened. The pointed collar was large and prominent. The front of the tie-dyed blouse V'ed down to expose the top of my chest. The sleeves trailed long enough to be used for flag signals. The corduroys were clasped with a heavy buckle. Even my comfortable sneakers had been sacrificed for a pair of three centimeter tall loafers. While I was fully clothed, the clothes made me feel exposed, somehow. I wondered how Misato usually felt.  
"Your butt is a little flat, but it'll do," Midori pronounced. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks, but she did not seem to notice. "One more thing," she added as she pulled the old clothes out of my arms.   
"One moment," I said and claimed my wallet, keys, and cell phone from my slacks. Midori stared as if they were unusual.  
"Oh, right, the hair," Midori said, pulled back to reality. She extracted a spray bottle from her bag. "Hmm, your hair is already minty fresh."  
She augmented the mint with spritzes of strawberry and mussed my hair so that a few locks artistically strayed from the general mass.   
"Just been shagged," Midori concluded.  
I took a good long look in the mirror. I looked absolutely ridiculous.  
My escape-from-kitsch-look reminded me a bit of the Tekken Classic character. His name was right at the tip of my tongue. I took a step back from the mirror in the column and sank into a loose stance with my right hand forward and left arm backward. I took a back step and reversed my arm position in a bad rendition of the character's capoeira.   
"That's a great idea," Midori pronounced, her eyes alight. I wasn't sure what she was talking about. She put down my discarded clothes and her bag. "I'll be right back," she ordered and headed to the womens' clothing section.   
My little brain workers scrambled around trying to send me a smoke message, but I could not decode it at the time. I decided to try my cellphone; it couldn't hurt to try to contact Misato. Predictably, my faithful phone had died in the bath of ice water.  
"Excuse me, sir," a cheerful voice chirped from behind me. I replaced the phone. A chipper, uniformed saleswoman had materialized behind me. "Would you like to purchase these articles?" I nodded and began looking around for price tags. I didn't want to pull off the clothes; I didn't have the will to put the oil spill assemblage on again.  
"The price is sewn into the clothing," she said. "Did you purchase any underclothing?" she asked. "The scanner doesn't get through corduroy sometimes."  
"No," I said. What kind of place was Tokyo-2?  
The woman swept over the clothes with a scanner, it gave a familiar blip over each article of clothing. "You're stylish for being from out of town," the saleswoman complimented.  
"I had some help."  
"Ah, your girlfriend," she said knowingly. I didn't have a chance to reply.  
"What do you think, Shinji?" Midori asked. I turned to see the girl spin; the filmly hem of the skirt blossomed in a twirl of colors. She had also bought a frilled yellow tunic.  
"It suits you," I answered honestly. "I'll pay for hers as well," I said. The saleswoman stepped forward and scanned the other articles. I tugged at several yen notes, but stopped and pulled out my sable and crimson Nerv card. "Debit."  
The saleswoman took the card reluctantly. Her professional cheer had slipped from her face. She slid the card through a slot in the back of the scanner and returned the card.  
"Your hand please," the saleswoman said coolly. I extended his right had; she took a fingerprint. "Thank you for your custom," the woman said formally and bowed once again.  
The sudden chill was worth it if the NERV agents could track the purchase. Midori stuffed her our shedded clothes into her bottomless bag and led us out of the store.

The land lines were also on the fritz. I had tried a whole line of pistachio pay phones. I returned to Midori on the mall sky walk. She leaned against a railing and stared out between the towering buildings of gray and glass. A thin avenue passed underneath. The city lights had already awakened with shy glows. She pushed the open can of iced coffee into my hand. She probably hadn't poisoned it, and she didn't look like the sort to have a social disease, so I drank. It was refreshing.  
"Any luck?" she asked. Her eyes seemed dimmed.   
"No," I said.  
"I don't know if you want to go, but we can go there," Midori said pointing down the avenue. In the distance, a banner hung between two edges of the buildings, and beyond the banner were miniature milling people.  
"A dance. I've never been to one," she said shyly. "I don't count gym class."  
"Do you want to go?" I asked.  
"Yes. With you, I do."  
"Then, let's go," I answered. I didn't know of any other place we could have gone. The glass tube led to another building. We descended a set of stairs, which led into the alley we had just stood over. Once outside of the climate controlled building, the humid air threw a stickily bear hug. It smelled of moistened asphalt. My new clothes instantly stuck to me, and sweat immediately beaded all over my body. Loudspeakers blared out a distant beat. The sound grew louder, and the indistinct words from a love song emerged from the noise.  
The alley opened to a hexagonal space between six shopping malls. One walkway connected to each vertex. We approached the crowd. It was hard to tell if we were over or underdressed, maybe some of both. Girls wore short skirts and bared midriffs, shoulders, and the tops of their chests. Many boys wore body hugging kitsch wear. Midori and I made our way to one side; she dumped off her massive bag into a pile of bags. She looked less confident without it. A teen organizer handed us stickers. I put mine on my chest. Midori stuck on hers.  
For a moment, she stood lost. I felt the same way as the music washed over me. The couples clung to each other. I was caught off guard when a nearby couple kissed, exchanging pink and moist tongues for long seconds. I stepped backward and bumped into Midori. We turned to each other. We were nearly touching.  
I was wrong, it was a mob. The noise of the people competed with the music. There were so many unfamiliar eyes and strange faces. She was confused and lost. I knew how that felt. I held my right hand out to her.  
I took her left hand and put it into mine. I adjusted the hold. I circled my left hand around her waist, she flinched, but let it settle around her. "I'll lead," I said, I couldn't tell if she heard me.  
I wanted to hang at the edge of the crowd, but there was a steady stream of foot traffic. The speakers thundered. There was only one alternative, to head into the maelstrom of limbs and bodies. I was nervous. I intended to leave a little space between us as we moved tentatively inward. There was not enough space, so I found myself pressed against her. Her smooth skirt slid and scuffed over my pants. I swallowed. I felt warmer already. My leg pressed against hers.  
I pulled back a small distance, and caught a bewildered expression as if she had fallen into the deep end of a pool; she couldn't swim and was suffocating. At that moment, I understood how she felt. I didn't want her to feel that way. It bothered me. I moved, anything was better than standing still. I didn't know the steps, but pop was simple compared to Bach or Vivaldi. A few simple moves came back to my limbs from the synchro-training. The music was more raw than the ballet that Kaji had chosen, but once my feet began moving, the steps came back. Each movement led naturally to the next.  
The opening steps were punctuated with apologies from Midori to me and our neighbors. I tried to give her a smile and continued to follow the music. After the first JPop song, she tread on my feet only half of the time. Another too long song passed, and Midori's seemed to have calmed down. I began to glance around to spy on some of our neighbors' movements. I quickly concentrated on her again. She offered me a weak smile and hung on.  
By the end of the fourth track, I could feel the rhythm. I wanted to go higher, push out, become larger to embrace more of the music. Our tentative steps kept her hanging onto me, and that wasn't comfortable for either of us. I freed a hand from around Midori and slipped off the sweaty glasses and hung them on my V'ed collar. I looked into her eyes; she returned an uncertain look. A slower and simpler guitar beat displaced the mash of JPop instrumentals. I stepped into her with purpose; she stepped back in response. She quivered in surprise.

"In a little cafe, just the other side of the border  
She was just sitting there givin' me looks that made my mouth water  
So I started walking her way  
She belonged to bad man, Jose"

Midori adjusted to the larger steps.

"Then I heard the guitar player say  
Vamoose, Jose's on his way  
Then I knew, yes I knew I should run  
But then I heard her say, yeah"

Just at the right moment, I stepped into a turn with the beat. The music picked up into a run of chords and lyrics:

"Come a little bit closer"

Her posture and her body froze momentarily as if jolted by electricity.

"You're my kind of man  
So big and so strong  
Come a little bit closer  
I'm all alone  
And the night is so long"

Before, she had moved like a limp a reed; now, she felt more supple, like the arm of a drawn bow. She moved with less hesitation. For the first time, since stepping onto the dancing grounds, Midori looked up into my face.  
When the song ended, we breathed heavily. We were ready for more. I tapped my toe to the brash brass of the next track.  
"What are you waiting for?" she shouted into my ear.  
We danced in time with the emotional vocals:

"Oh, I love you more today than yesterday  
But not as much as tomorrow  
I love you more today than yesterday  
But, darling, not as much as tomorrow"

Midori took my lead and gave back more: a hand motion, a tilt of the head, a bounce in her step. We weren't graceful, but we felt natural and energetic. The song felt the right length.

"...Then you say go slow  
I fall behind  
The second hand unwinds"

"If you're lost you can look and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting  
Time after time"

We danced through another song, and then another. For those minutes, Midori was molded to the space between my arms. When I released her into a turn, Midori's lean body was sure to return. We became bolder and added more movements and turns to our rhythm. Her hand and her chin were damp against me. My back felt drenched. We breathed through our mouths as we paused between tracks.  
I looked at her.  
"What is it?" she asked with a smile. She seemed energetic again.  
"Nothing," I said. For a moment, my mind had flashed back to training with Asuka in the underbelly of the Geofront. Asuka had continuously challenged me, like a grade-school rival. Rei and I didn't have to try to move in unison, this was different though.  
"Shall we dance?" she invited and held out her hand again. I took it for another round.  
We didn't stop until locks of Midori's hair straggled in wet swaths around her face. She was spinning away from me, her hand still in mine, when the time the DJ spun a discordant note. The treble shrieked and rang. Midori stumbled and fell as her left foot missed a step. She let go of me to break her fall; she sprawled awkwardly on the ground. She looked bewildered as if she had awoken from a dream. I stepped forward and knelt before her.  
"Are you okay?" I asked.  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
"Let's go sit for a bit," I suggested. She nodded. I helped Midori gingerly rise to her feet. As I looked up, I saw that our neighbors had stopped. "Please, excuse us," I said and supported Midori out of the crowd. They made way for us. We joined the stream of traffic at the edge of the crowd and followed it an open area where couples sat against and sometimes on top of each other. It was no longer a surprise to me, and I was too tired to care. An organizer handed us plastic cups of ice water. The music and crowd died down to a dull roar. We took an empty corner.  
Midori's pale complexion was flushed raspberry pink. I must have looked about the same. She tucked her skirts around her legs until the tips of her boxy shoes showed.  
"Sorry," Midori gasped between gulps of air.  
"Don't be," I said and gulped cold water; it made my teeth ache. "How's your leg? Do you want me to look at it?"  
"No, it's fine," Midori said.  
"Is that you, Midori?" a perky girl asked from behind us.  
"Reiha," Midori said, half turning.  
Reiha was cute, with short hair. She was a few inches taller than either of us. She wore a blazing pink dress; the top cut stopped at collarbone and bottom halted halfway to her knees. She wore a sea green sash around her waist and open toed shoes. Reiha sat down on the far side of Midori. "Nanashi Shinji, Tonomura Reiha. Tonomura Reiha, Nanashi Shinji," Midori said. Reiha raised an eyebrow at my pseudonym. (3)  
"Nice to meet you," I said.  
"Nice to meet you, too," Reiha returned.  
"I never expected to see you here," Reiha enthused. "I told you that you could do it."  
"You're more persistent than the SDF," Midori replied (4). "Can you please get my bag?" she asked me. I nodded, I had my left handkerchief in my jacket.   
I deposited my cup into a trash can and swam upstream against the traffic. I found her bag toward the top of the bags. It stuck out from the leather and plastic designer purses. As I hefted the load, it finally hit home that I was holding the bag of a high school student. A part of me had suspected it. Reiha had confirmed it. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Midori could not protect me. In fact, I had dragged her into this mess. I couldn't stand there contemplating my mistakes though, the list ran too long. I decided to keep whatever little cover we had and try to contact Misato.  
I returned with her bag. Midori stood and waved to me. She took her farewell from Reiha and walked toward me.  
"Reiha is a part of the ballroom dance club," Midori said. "I think that I've had enough with dancing. What about you?"  
"Me, too," I answered. "I can carry this, if you want."  
She shook her head and took the bag.  
We joined the crowd. I walked close to her, like the other couples. She snaked a sweaty arm through mine. A river of people poured out of the square. We entered a well packed subway and took a pair of seats toward the back. Midori had been right, my subdued clothes would have stuck out. She took a window seat. We separated. She stared outside the window.  
I thought about how I would get a message to Misato. The phone problems were probably on the Tokyo-3 side. I could use my card again and leave a trail of purchases. A hotel room would cue them in on me. Hopefully, ID-2 would pick up on the trail faster than the other agents.  
When the metro stopped, we exited along with dozens of other chattering and laughing high schoolers. One exuberant guy with tea colored hair turned to us in the middle of the broad concrete stairs.  
"Hey, didn't have much fun?" he asked.  
"No, we had lots," I answered.  
"Got a light?"  
I shook my head. Midori dug through her bag and found a plastic lighter. She expertly flicked a finger of flame to life and held it at arms length.  
"Thank you," the smoker answered in English and ignited a Lucky Strike. He turned and caught up with his friends, calling for them to wait.  
Midori replaced the lighter. "Come with me," she ordered me. I followed her. She was in an odd mood. I didn't want to leave her, not like that. I followed her across the street. It looked like any other white paved sidewalk, bordering blacktop. The power and communication lines were hung overhead. High rises towered from the pavement, making artificial valleys. We stopped by one of the nondescript towers. Midori admitted us with the swipe on an ID card.  
Wordlessly, we mounted a set of stairs, avoiding the stainless steel elevator. The stairwell was dim. Our shoes echoed against the steel nosings and hard steps. We ascended five stories, which was eight half-flights of stairs, nine landings, and seven steps per half-flight. The dim shaft opened to a narrow, white corridor. The door boomed shut behind us. Nobody else was about. We passed several doors before Midori swiped her card to enter apartment 510.  
The metal door swung open into a silent and dark kitchen. We entered.   
"Sorry to intrude," I called out. There was no response.  
The door closed, cutting off the light from the hall. Beyond, the curtains were closed. Midori quietly removed her shoes and entered the next room. I pulled off my shoes. By this point, the sweat had encrusted onto me. I hoped that my soggy socks did not smell too bad. I followed her into the living room.  
Pale light leaked through the edges of the windows. The humid air was warm and still, it was oppressive. I felt like having some cold water. The whole apartment was about half the size of Misato's condo. She stood in front of a dining room table and had her back turned to me; she fiddled with something. The colorful patterns on her dress were muted to gray swirls. I approached her.  
"Midori?" I asked tentatively. This was her house. I felt like an intruder. Calling her by her plain first name now seemed too familiar.  
She turned around, showing her right shoulder to me. Her right and left arms were held almost akimbo, though only the right hand overlapped the left. The cradled hands were about a hand width away from her chest. In her left hand, she held a black and shiny hand-cannon. She slowly raised the massive bore of the weapon up to me. From the top of the automatic, a line of ruby light swept across the carpet and weightlessly slid up to my chest. The constant red dot settled over my heart. I looked into her nocturne eyes, they were dry and flat.  
My first thought was "crap."

==========================  
(3) No-Name Shinji, it worked for me.  
(4) The SDF has aggressive recruiting these days. Their turnover has been high lately.

Discography  
"Come a little closer" by Jay and the Americans - http:  
"Time after Time" by Cyndi Lauper - http:www.lyrics007.com

Author's Notes:  
Dennisud posed some interesting observations in his review. I will address it after the last part. Limulux pointed out that Ito Midori is a famous skater. I'd forgotten about that.


	6. Over the Barrel

I had briefly considered the possibility that Midori could be an enemy agent. When I met Reiha of the clinging flamingo-colored dress, the thought came up again. However, two teenaged agents seemed too farfetched; that's found only in manga and anime. In fact, the human wall, the clumsy shopper, or the fat man at Guido's could have been enemy agents. The permutations made my head spin.   
  
Without any facts to go on, I went with my gut instinct. Instinct told me that Midori was an eccentric, but otherwise normal girl. That instinct brought me to the point I was at: over the barrel.  
  
One Weekend  
  
6. Over the Barrel  
  
My heart pounded. My throat and mouth were dry enough to cough sand. Profuse sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. I stood so very still.  
  
Midori's sideways stance and aim held rock steady. Her gaze was focused like the narrow red line cutting through the darkness, pointed at my heart. Midori hardly blinked during those long moments.  
  
Sticky sweat slid and gathered on my eyebrows, until one drop slid through the small hairs and onto my eyelid. I closed my eye against the drop; I ended up closing both of my eyes. At that moment, I heard and felt a resonating boom. My hear leapt. I squeezed my eyes tighter in anticipation of a sharp impact punching through me. A point on chest itched in anticipation, but the impact didn't come. It had been thunder. A humid wind blew in from the slightly open window behind Midori; it carried the scent of hot pavement.  
  
I dared to open my left eye. The red light had traveled up to my face. I involuntary brought up my arms to ward it off. I peeked around my arms to see the shaft of light rise to the popcorn painted ceiling. It continued to move away from me.  
  
Midori relaxed her nearly akimbo stance, and then stood facing me. Both of her hands were folded around the handle of the massive black gun. The barrel rose until it was planted against the soft skin beneath her jaw. She tilted her face to the ceiling as if in prayer.  
  
A part of me wanted to run, but I saw her face crack into a strange expression. Her eyes screwed shut. The corners of her mouth had pulled down, and tightened into a thin line; the right corner twitched in spasms. Her nose flared with each breath. In the tension, I read the confusion in the square, the fatigue on the skywalk, and the far-off look on the rail to Tokyo-2 and coming to this place.  
  
Another stroke of lightning arced over the city, lighting the room in a stark flash. I shied away from the brightness. Through the blood-filled filter of my eyelids, I spontaneously saw Midori pulling the trigger. A tremor of thunder rolled through the building, up my feet, and through my body to my head. In my mind, her eyes bulged with surprise as a red blossom vividly bloomed from the top of her head.   
  
I opened my eyes again to see her still in gun prayer. A tear squeezed out from the corner of her eye. I might have heard a sob. As if in a dream, my body moved before I could consider the motion. I licked my dry lips with my sandpaper tongue as I took the second leaden step forward.  
  
Midori cracked open an eye.   
  
"Stay away," she croaked while barely moving her mouth.  
  
I stopped for a brief moment as another stroke of dry lightning illuminated the sky. She was casted in black against the white light. I took the next step after the thunder rumbled past. The black barrel remained locked under the delicate bone of her chin. Momentum carried me into took another small step and then a larger one.  
  
"Stay away," she repeated.  
  
Step by step, I approached until I stood within arm's reach.  
  
"I'm switching on the safety," I said.  
  
"Stay away," was all she said.  
  
I reached past her thin fingers and flicked the switch. I wrapped a hand around the barrel and firmly twisted the heavy gun from her hands. She did not resist. I flicked off the ruby laser. Midori fell onto me as if she had been propped up by the weapon.  
  
I staggered backward and managed to crash land against a wall. We slid noisily to the thin carpeting. My stale breath escaped in a long heave. Midori wrapped her arms tightly around me beneath my arms. She buried her face into my chest. She began to cry. The silent tears dissolved into shaking sobs. A small keening emitted from her throat.   
  
Awkwardly, I unloaded the clip and the chambered bullet. I laid the lot to the far side from Midori, and then let my arms close around her warm and sweaty body.  
  
Awkwardly, I stroked her from back of her head to the small of her back. I felt the bumps of her vertebrae, the bulge of her bra strap, and the heaving of her breath.  
  
Outside, the rain came down thickly. We sat for a time. The vinyl shades rattled. The wind became cool and soothing. She continued to cry, and I listened to the drops falling both outside and in. 


	7. Small Steps

One Weekend  
  
7. Small Steps  
  
The storm had dwindles from a sizzle to a patter by the time that Midori to cried herself quiet. My shirt was damp. At some point, I had stopped stroking her back and kept a loose arm around her. It was a little strange. Soon after quieting down, she pulled herself from around my body and settled with her ear on my lap, her head turned away from me. Her bedraggled hair obscured her face. From her regular breathing, she could have fallen asleep. I teased sweat encrusted locks aside; her hand closed lightly around the fingertips. I didn't pull away. Her red eyes stared out into space.   
  
"Shinji," she began in a coated voice. She cleared her throat. "What is your surname?"  
  
"Ikari," I answered.  
  
"That explains a lot."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"The hiding."  
  
"Oh," I replied.  
  
We sank back into a thick silence. The wind had died down and left the air a little cooler than before, though the room was still uncomfortable. Midori's pale face glowed with the sallow blue light that trickled under the partly drawn shade.  
  
"Shinji," Midori began again. She licked her lips. Her voice choked on the next few words. "I'm really sorry for what I did. I really fucked up. I really did, and I can't make it up to you. If you want to go, I won't stop you, but please listen for a little while."  
  
Her body convulsed as she coughed. Her hand clenched on mine briefly. She cleared her throat and then closed her eyes. I waited for her to continue. She waited as if expecting me to leave.  
  
"My father was a merc," she continued. "He fought in West Africa, the Balkans, and finally in the Manchurian Succession for the Russians. Business was booming after the Second Impact. Daddy never told me what happened or what he did, but I knew that he didn't leave it all behind, or maybe he left too much behind.  
  
"He inhaled some mustard gas during attack; no one was sure who used it. It didn't matter, it ate his lungs, his health, and him. He was my best friend. But it wasn't enough, not two years ago, when he turned his gun on himself and ended it. That was the worst day in my life. Afterward, my mother bought me a puppy."  
  
Tears welled up again. She laughed quietly with black humor.  
  
"The puppy's name was Shinji. He was my best friend in the whole wide world. Well, I lost Shin-chan, too, right before we left Tokyo-3. He wandered away one day and never came back. That was the second worst day in my life.  
  
"Last week was the anniversary of my father's passing away. My mother went on a date with her boyfriend. The probably checked into to a love motel somewhere. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't stand it. She didn't even burn any incense for Daddy. It was so awful that by the end of the day, I never wanted to feel that way again. I sat with Daddy's gun, ready to go. It didn't seem quite right though, but then I thought to go to Tokyo-3 to look for Shin-chan one last time. Once I found him, I would decide. If I didn't find him, I would finish what I had started. It wasn't a happy thought, but it cleared my head, and I was able to smile my way through Friday and Saturday.  
  
"Today, I woke up early to go to Tokyo-3. I wandered around the city for a long time, the shopping districts that were left and the parks we used to go to. I was ready to give up. I had collapsed onto the bench when you found me."  
  
A thought occurred to me.  
  
"Was there anyone else there?"  
  
"Anyone else?" she asked. "Yeah, a guy. He looked like a junior salaryman, the sort that has never smiled or jerked off in his entire life."  
  
"Did he look young?"  
  
"Twenty-ish."  
  
"That would be him."  
  
"Why? Did you know him?" she asked. Midori seemed tired. She stifled a high pitched yawn.  
  
I explained that the human wall had told me to find an agent named BF and introduce myself. That set her off onto a small laugh; it was healthier than the one before.  
  
"I really thought that your showing up was an act of fate. It meant a lot to me. I felt as if someone were watching over me, as if things were going to be okay.  
  
"Shinji, dancing with you was wonderful, but then I saw Reiha. It was like a switch went off in my head. Reiha isn't a bad person, but I've always hated her, even before I moved back to Tokyo-2. She never thinks, she just accepts. When I saw her, a voice asked me: 'Do you really think anything is going to change?' It was a silly thought, but I couldn't answer it."  
  
I experienced a strange lurch. I had been caught up in my fouled-up lunch date, and then the whole "Spies Like Us" bit. When Midori told me all of this, I momentarily saw myself as an extra and her as the lead actress. The series would continue after I had left. It was obvious, but the point hadn't hit home until that moment.  
  
I looked down at her. She looked calm, but she had just held me at gun point a little while ago. It was unsettling.  
  
Midori let go of my hand and shifted her weight. She pillowed the back of her head on my lap and looked up at me. My eyes met her red fissured eyes.  
  
"After I saw her, everything seemed mean and ugly," Midori continued. "I came back here. I might have been thinking that I wanted to seal away what was good; so that, it wouldn't spoil. I'm not so sure right now, it isn't clear anymore. But if you had gone, no, if I had killed you, I would have followed.  
  
"When I looked into your eyes though, I knew you wanted to live. It wasn't fair for me to do that, when you wanted to live. But I didn't want to go alone."  
  
I was quiet, I didn't know what to say to that.  
  
"What are you thinking, Shinji?" she pleaded. "I know that I'm being demanding, though I don't have a right to be. But please answer me."  
  
"I don't know what I'm supposed to think," I admitted slowly. "And that's the truth. I'm not sure what to do," it was hard for me to lie to her when we sat so close.  
  
"I know that you can't stay here," Midori said. "And I don't want to stay here, either. I can understand if you don't want me near you, but if you don't mind too much, I would really want to be near you."  
  
Her soft words made me feel self-conscious. I looked away from her. At that moment, my leg jumped as pins and needles pierced from the thigh down. Midori jerked to a sitting position.  
  
"Is something wrong?" she asked me.  
  
"My leg is numb," I said. I changed my position to knead my leg.  
  
"Here," Midori offered and then took charge. Her hands were firm and skillful. Sensation returned quickly.  
  
I glanced at the top of her mussed hair and then at the gun. The fear was still fresh, but the memory of facing the ruby light quickly gave way to the sight of her face as she shoved the barrel under her chin. She had held herself at gun point far longer than she had held me. The edges were beginning to fade, but the image of her pulling the trigger was still sharp. Fear and worry warred; worry won. I can't say why the idea was so strong, but I didn't want to leave her here alone.  
  
"Midori," I said.  
  
"Yes?" she responded in a small voice. Her hands had come to stop as she watched me.  
  
"My leg is fine, now," I said as I shifted into a half kneel.  
  
"Oh," she replied and reluctantly pulled her hands away.  
  
"I think that my best chance is to somehow get to a hotel and use my card. I think that NERV can find me if I charge a room on it. I'll be in one place."  
  
"And the best way to get found if you're lost is to stay in one place," Midori concluded.  
  
"Do you know of any decent places?" I asked.  
  
Her face lit up, and she stood to throw her arms around me.  
  
Midori released me quickly and approached her bag, which was still at the table. Her narrow back broke the stream of blue light.  
  
"Why don't we just take our jackets and leave the rest?" I suggested  
  
When I saw the black silhouette of the bag, it looked massy and forbidding. The gun had probably come from somewhere in its depths. Midori spun around, surprised. I felt childish, being afraid of a bag.  
  
"OK, sure," Midori answer.  
  
I was relieved that she agreed to leave the bag behind. She handed me my jacket. Midori pulled on hers and tucked a nylon wallet into her jacket pocket. She left the gun where it lay. The door swung open to admit a slab of white light. She stopped at the doorway to wait with her hand held out to me. I took it as we left the dim confines of her home.  
  
We left by a fire escape that led to a back alley. Bikes, trash bins, and discarded appliances lay strewn across the long narrow corridor between the stretch of identical high rises. We crossed gates and even clambered over a chain linked fence; I went first. Midori had almost as hard of a time with it as I did. She was surprisingly strong for her thin build.  
  
We eventually reached the mouth of the alley. Midori turned to me.  
  
"Brace yourself," she said.  
  
Traffic must have been stopped. Pedestrians walked on the four lanes of asphalt plus pavement. I had been surprised by the kissing teens at the dance, but their innocence had not prepared me for the nightlife of Tokyo-2. Neon lights lit the night almost as bright as day. Garishly green salarymen reeled and freely spilled their emerald bottles of sake onto the pavement. The rice wine joined the recent rain to reflect the signs. Blue and green couples stopped against store fronts to grope and make out. Hands slid beneath each others' clothes. Orange and pink teens sucked on joints of pungent weed. Cans of beer and bottles of wine cooler promiscuously exchanged between hands and lips.  
  
"What's going on?" I shouted to her. She didn't answer, and instead boldly towed me through the crowd.  
  
In the crush, a teenagedgirl extended her tongue from between her darkly painted lips and licked my ear. It made me feel more sick than anything else. She nearly spilled from her tight bikini top. The girl smiled at me. She would have been beautiful except that her eyes were as empty as those of a beached fish.  
  
Bars, strip clubs, live sex shows, gambling parlors, and all-you-could eat buffets lined the street, each with its own overly bright name. The streams people entering and leaving the places buffeted us. We rode the currents to a side street, where the glare of the neon lights was lessened. The side street was blessedly cool and quiet.  
  
Midori led us from the pavement, down a set of stairs bounded by a wrought iron railing. An imposing metal door stood at the bottom; it bore the sign: "The Corral." Midori rapped three times on the heavy door. A slot open, and a pair of eyes peered around, and then down at us. The door opened. In the next room, an American country song played in the next room. A muscular figure stood in front of us. I could not tell if the bouncer in the duster and jeans was a man or woman until she spoke.  
  
"Hello, Midori," the bouncer said. "It's night you know."  
  
"I know," she said. "We're just passing through."  
  
"1,000 yen a head," the bouncer said. "Sorry, no exceptions."  
  
"It's fine," Midori said.  
  
I pulled out my wallet and pulled out a pair of bills.  
  
"You okay, Midori?" the bouncer said. "Your eyes are red. He wouldn't have anything to do with this?" she said jutting her manly chin at me.  
  
"No, just a black dog of a day," Midori answered sheepishly.  
  
"Hold out yer hand," the manly woman ordered.  
  
I complied. She pulled out a foot long rod with a stamp at the end. It looked like a miniature brand. The bouncer immobilized my hand in hers and rammed the stamp firmly into the back of my hand; it left the red imprint of a pair of linked circles with parallel arrows jutting from the circles. Midori's hand was branded too.   
  
We walked through a pair of saloon doors into a dimly lit room. A ceiling fan lazily circulated cool air. Cigar smoke floated in the air. The men wore chaps, duster jackets, jeans, and other wild west gear. A few women circulated through the crowd; they wore frontiers clothes as well. We clung to a wall to avoid the dancing pairs of cowboys. When we walked close to a woman, I noticed that she was a man as well. He winked at me.   
  
My stomach flip-flopped. I looked away and walked closer to Midori. I nearly ran into a jukebox.  
  
Midori waved to the saloonkeeper; he waved back. We walked through another pair of saloon doors and past the restrooms. One was for men, the other was unisex. We exited by a door out the back, which was near a a garbage bin. The door slammed close, leaving us in a dimly lit parking lot.   
  
"Surprised?" Midori asked. The vast space seemed to eat her words.  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Me, too, the first time."  
  
The cavernous lot was three-quarters full. Sports cars and SUVs populated the tight spots. Water dripped down the monotonous concrete columns and uniform deep ridges hanging from the ceiling. Our footsteps echoed through the lonely place. I was glad for the warmth of her hand.  
  
We passed countless rows of cars before reaching the far end of the lot. We stood in the lee of a column as a black, low-slung machine roared up the ramp. The glare of the headlights blinded me for a moment. The car pulled to a stop, and then zoomed on.  
  
We stepped around the column. The driver had stopped at a brightly lit display. We looked both ways and crossed quickly. We released hands as we reached the sign.  
  
The display held a grid. In each square was the image of an ornamented bedroom. Scrollwork labeled each picture.  
  
The Sherwood Suite  
  
Sleeping Beauty's Bedroom  
  
The Chamber of Prince Charming  
  
At the bottom read: "Ask about our newlywed discount."  
  
"You pick," Midori offered. "It's your card, dear." 


	8. Briefly in Paradise

No other place would have taken my money. Any other motel, hotel, inn, bed and breakfast, or licensed whorehouse would have sent me packing. Competition had gotten fierce in the love motel business, though, and some operators had become loose. These places offered a "newlywed discount", which was a code word for minors allowed. Midori had heard this from her mother's boyfriend, who was a tax evasion investigator.  
  
Even with the premium for the "newlywed discount", my bill for room and service came over to 48,000 yen . Misato said that it wasn't a bad deal, but dubbed my taste as highly suspect. I assumed that she was talking about the room, but I digress.  
  
In the motel elevator, Midori said something that struck me. Tokyo-2 was full of hungry people, but when they eat, they only got hungrier. The people guzzled sake, gorged on meat, gulped pills, and whored. Even if no one was paid, it was whoring, Midori said. You could tell by looking at them.  
  
Practically every one of her classmates took a pill case along with their pencil case to school. They called it "candy", and each candy case contained birth control, uppers, and day-afters [6]. The girls took their candy with milk during lunch. Candy cases were making their way down to the middle schools.  
  
"What happened?" I asked.  
  
"They are afraid," Midori said. "The kids catch it from their teachers, their parents. The adults know something is happening in Tokyo-3, and they can't do anything about it. They think it has something to do with the Second Impact. They think it will be the end of the world."  
  
She didn't want to dwell on the subject, and, soon enough, we were at our room.  
  
One Weekend  
  
8. Briefly in Paradise  
  
Midori and I stepped onto what felt like warm sand. An evening sun lit the vast sky purple. Gentle and frothy waves lapped against the perfect white sand. The air smelled of salt and other sea scents. A gull screamed forlornly in the distance. I could see water for miles and miles. Other islands floated in the distance. At the edge of the water lay a circular bed of light blue. The headboard was a mass of buttons and labels.  
  
The door closed behind us with a pneumatic hiss. The door itself became painted with tropical undergrowth and trees; the outline disappeared, leaving only a brass door handle hanging in midair.  
  
"Wow, Shinji. I'm impressed," Midori said. "You went all out. What is this?"  
  
"I'm really not sure," I answered. "I closed my eyes and then picked one."  
  
A yellow blur darted from the photo-realistic brush. The object raced across the side of the room, leaving small footprints behind, and came to a stop near the edge of the water. It turned out to be a chubby rodent with brown stripes and a strangely angular tail; it was the size of a large squirrel.  
  
"Pika-pika," the creature said. "Pika-pika."  
  
A bipedal platypus waddled from the fern-like undergrowth to join the yellow rodent.  
  
"Psy-duck," the platypus insisted. "Psyyyy-duck.'  
  
Midori kicked off her shoes and ran to the edge of the room. The pokemon turned toward her with wide eyes.  
  
"Pikachu! Psy-duck!" she yelled ecstatically.  
  
My eyes nearly bugged from my head as the pair of creatures stepped out of the the wall and ran past her. Midori giggled and chased after them for a moment, but they darted swiftly back into the brush. Deep in the brush were dozens upon dozens of the creatures; they came in all shapes and sizes. Some flew, other's walked, one or two stalked, and at least one slithered. I backed up until I hit the bed. I sat down like a lump.  
  
Midori plunked down next me, causing the bed to bob up and down for a moment.  
  
"A waterbed, how kinky," she said with a smile and began dribbling the surface until the mass shook with three centimeter waves. I felt a little sick. "I wonder were the bathroom is?"  
  
At the word bathroom, a bell rang at the corner of the room toward the interior of the island. Midori rose and walked toward a large bolder. She peaked her head behind the rock and disappeared for a moment.  
  
"Shinji, you've got to see this! It looks like a lagoon," Midori exclaimed.  
  
I rose reluctantly and joined her. The boulder was actually a rectangular wall. Touching the screen didn't faze the illusion. The bathroom held a kidney shaped tub, large enough for at least two. A dry path of rocks looked as if it would readily serve as a waterfall. On a rock shelf were shampoos, soaps, and other bottled substances.  
  
"Excuse me for a moment," Midori said. "I've got to go."  
  
"Right," I said and turned.  
  
"Do you mind if I take a shower?" Midori asked.  
  
"Go ahead," I answered over my shoulder, and then returned to the bed.  
  
Tokyo-2 was a place of exotic tastes, to put it mildly.  
  
I wanted to slump spinelessly onto the slippery sheets, but I was too sweaty and nasty. I wanted to take a shower, too, but I didn't have a change of clothes. I tossed my jacket over a bed post. I turned to the bewildering assortment of buttons, dials, and displays between the posts. NERV HQ had nothing on these guys. I tapped a button labeled with a large question mark beneath it.  
  
"Time?" a mechanical female voice asked me. "Would you like to set the time?"  
  
"Why not?" I answered. The evening sky was playing with my senses.  
  
"What time would you like to set it at?" the bland woman asked.  
  
"Current time."  
  
"Adjusting."  
  
The sun accelerated across the sky, and the sky deepened as if injected with ink. The moon rose and the stars came out. A winged dragon flew overhead. I was impressed.  
  
"How else may I help you?" the disembodied voice asked.  
  
"Clothes," I said.  
  
"We carry a variety of underclothing. Please refer to the main display."  
  
The largest LCD display went blank, and then filled with a variety of icon. There were one pieces for men, two pieces for women, and a few icons that resembled furry pokemon. I stayed away from the last option. One patch of the LCD must have been hair-triggered, because the women's display lit up. A series of selections were made for me. As soon as the blur of icons dissipated, a pneumatic hiss traveled up from the floor to the wall before me. A compartment opened in the wall, which ejected a clear tube. The tube dropped it onto the sheets and spilled a pair of lacy black lingerie. I decided to try again. I couldn't order again until I had replaced the tube into the sky colored indentation in the wall. The lingerie wouldn't fit, so I sent an empty tube back. I cautiously picked a pair of plain boxers. They didn't didn't have any plain briefs. I was not in a mood for Starmie or Snorlax underwear.  
  
I collected my tube just as Midori shuffled out of the bathroom. Her white terry cloth robe dragged on the ground. She had wrapped a towel around her hair. I hastily shoved the lingerie under a pillow.  
  
"I'm finished," she sang. "Your turn."  
  
She smelled of flowers, papaya, and the sea. It was sweet, but not cloying. The combination of seeing her in a robe (probably wearing little or nothing underneath) and that scent triggered something inside of me. It felt like my knees had been greased and that my torso could lurch any which way while mounted on those unstable supports.  
  
I made it to the shower where I self-consciously took off my clothes. My discarded clothes went into a wicker basket on top of Midori's skirt. I told myself that I lived with Misato, but I just didn't think of Misato like that. It finally hit me that I was sharing a motel room with a girl that I had just met. I suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable.  
  
A black puffball with antennae, eyes, and stubby limbs crept to the edge of the lagoon to watch.  
  
"Shoo!" I hissed, and it disappeared.  
  
I found the controls for the shower on the surface of a smooth stone. Water sluiced down from the fall. I staggered under the shock of the cold. I chose a shampoo at random. I concentrated on washing: soap to hand, hand to skin, rinse. By the time I was finished, I shivered and chattered. A second robe waited for me; it was warm and dry. The air felt warm.  
  
Midori leaned on the bed post to stare out at the night sky and sea. Her feet were tucked under her, and her hand rested on her chin A serpentine creature disported in the high waves. I sat gently on the bed. She turned to me.  
  
"Shinji," she said. "I want to show you something. I've never shown any other boy this.  
  
With one hand, she opened up the right skirt of her robe and revealed the luminous expanse of her bare right leg from toe to mid thigh. She pulled back the other skirt of her robe, and I noticed that her leg, from just above the knee, was a off a slightly different texture and color. Her thin fingers fumbled at the straps at the border of the change and then loosened the leather. Her leg came loose. I started in surprise. She pulled off her left leg and set it behind her. With a push of her arms and her butt, she slid over the smooth sheets until we were in arm's reach.  
  
Midori took my right hand and pulled me closer. She pulled out a small bottle from the breast pocket of her robe. She uncorked it and poured a cool dollop of lotion into my palm. She poured a bit of the lotion in one hand and began to massage her stump. With her free hand, she pulled my lotion bearing hand onto the warm scarred skin. I began to smear the substance onto her.  
  
"Slowly," she suggested soothingly. "Slowly."  
  
My strokes had matched my heartbeat, fast and curt. I slowed down. My heart still pounded, but my hands stopped trembling, and I remembered to breathe. My hands and fingers ran over the remnant of the leg. I expected to feel the bone underneath, but encountered soft skin and wiry muscle. I could feel the scar where the surgeon had sewn the skin. Midori had stopped applying lotion and laid on her back. She hissed as I touched as I touched a raw spot. I jerked my hands away.  
  
"Are you okay?" I asked.  
  
"Don't stop," she said.  
  
I continued. The bottom of her robe lay spread open, exposing smooth blue-tinged skin. Her build looked delicate. I took in the wonderful sight. My throat felt dry. Her legs were downed with short hair. She wore the lacy black underclothes. I wondered what she looked like underneath it. She sighed comfortably. I worked the slippery cream into her left thigh. My hands reached higher, until they were a hand's width away from the junction of her legs. Her leg hair became darker and thicker closer to there.  
  
"Wait," she whispered. She leaned up and put a gentle hand on mine. I froze.  
  
Midori gently disengaged her thigh from my hands and levered herself the rest of the way up. Her hair came free from the towel that bound it and arced in curved blades. The front of her robe had opened. Her eyes were dark and full in the dimness. I was surprised to find that she didn't seem upset. She hadn't stopped me because she was upset. She pulled her robe further open. She wanted me to look.  
  
I took in the sight of her. Feeling bold, I reached up to run a finger over a sleek lock. My fingers trailed down the wet hair and ran down her cheek. She caught my hand in both of hers and cupped my hand over her cheek. I didn't know what she was going to do next, but she closed her eyes. Midori began breathing in short breaths through her mouth, I could feel the warmth of her exhales and smell her sweet scent. She flushed as well.  
  
Her lips opened to say something. At that moment, a chime rang in the air. Static crackled and a man's voice spoke.  
  
"Room service."  
  
We tried to ignore it, but it rang insistently again. And again. And again. She sighed and then let go of my hand.  
  
"Did you order something?" she asked.  
  
"No," I squeaked as my voice cracked. Embarrassed, I cleared my throat. "No, I didn't."  
  
"Complimentary oysters and sake for room 203," the voice called.  
  
"I'll go check," I said, recalling that she would have to hobble.  
  
"Maybe there's a peep hole," Midori said in a low voice.  
  
I reluctantly left the bed. I made sure that my robe hung covered my body, especially below the waist though the waiter couldn't see me. I picked my way cautiously to the dark tropical undergrowth and the brass doorknob. As soon as I touched the space where the door had been, a screen appeared, showing me what was beyond.  
  
A portly waiter wearing aviator glasses stood in a parade stance next to a cart and tray. I deepened my voice as best as I could.  
  
"Why don't you leave it right there? We aren't... presentable at the moment."  
  
"Excellent," the waiter said. He swung the lid off of the tray and pulled out a bulky device that looked like massive staplegun. He pointed it at the door and pulled the trigger before I could react. I shied away from the burst of light. A ripple of electricity crawled like ants over my body. Black splotches appeared in the walls and ceiling. Three windows became transparent as the illusion was broken.  
  
The calm of the night was broken as the thunderous hacking of a helicopter swung in from the sky. Spotlights shined in from the window. I backpedaled as the door exploded open. The waiter charged into the room. He held a video camera and an obnoxious light, which was aimed right at my eyes  
  
Midori stopped me before I stumbled over the bed. In the background, pokemon howled and ran about.  
  
"Investigative reporter Osekkai Kenji here with Shin-Tokyo Star, reporting! Here we have famed Eva Pilot Ikari Shinji, who had seduced an innocent young lady and brought her to this hotel room. Was this tryst paid for with UN money?!" the man shouted. "Mr. Ikari, what do you have to say for yourself?"  
  
We backed up away from the man and his portable spotlight.  
  
"Were you following us all day?!" I demanded.  
  
"The public has a right to know!" a woman declared behind us. Another reporter attempted to negotiate a rope ladder between the helicopter and the window. The woman wore a bandanna mounted with a lipstick sized tube and a headset. She wore heels and a corporate power suit. "Sewayaki Kristy here with the Metropolitan, live on the scene of a sordid love motel, where we have tracked down NERV pilot Ikari Shinji. We believe that he has been brought here by the agent of a foreign government. Mr. Ikari, would you answer a few questions for us?"  
  
"Go away, witch!" Midori shouted at the reporter.  
  
The reporter reared in outrage; she nearly slipped off her ladder.  
  
When I turned to the first yammering reporter, I saw that a whole crew of reporters had crowded into the room. Some of them were dressed like bellhops, maids, and waiters. One charged in wearing boxers, smeared lipstick on his face; he wielded a microphone like a bludgeon. Midori and I had backed against wall; my body tried to shield her from the throng. They closed in on us. Midori made vague animal-like noises from her throat.  
  
A scream cut us all off. Mz. Sewayaki's chopper had cut it's connection with her ladder and she disappeared from the edge of the window. The reporter's wailing told us that she still clung on. The noise of the chopper faded, to be replaced with the familiar sound of a hundred hoovers running at once.  
  
A piercing voice rang over a megaphone. "Everybody freeze!"  
  
A wave of relief washed over me.   
  
"Misato," I yelled.  
  
A NERV VTOL sank into view. It flew right next to the building. Misato hung onto the top of the open hatch of the VTOL with one hand. In the other she held the white microphone. Her long raven hair, red jacket, and short black dress whipped around her. Black suited and beshaded agents leapt into the room, two by two from either side of Misato. The first agent fired a sawed off shotgun into the floor. The blast sent the crowd of reporters scurrying back. The other agents wielded black rods, with a twitch, the rods extended into staves. Midori and I sank to the floor. In the background, panicked pokemon splashed and stampeded into the water like the last of the dinosaurs.  
  
"Shinji! You are in such DEEP SHIT!" Misato screamed. "You are SO GROUNDED!"  
  
Suddenly, the paparazzi didn't seem so bad.  
  
The next thing I knew, I was being scooped up by a NERV man.  
  
[6] The uppers help regulate weight. Day afters are the successors to the morning-after pills. 


	9. The Day that Wouldn't Die

I realize that there's a lot here that I wouldn't want Misato or anyone else to see. I'll pare it down later. Anyway, I'd better wrap this up before I crash.  
  
One Weekend  
  
9. The Day that Wouldn't Die  
  
They brought Midori along for the ride. They took a retinal scan of her. Her background checked okay.  
  
Midori pulled her leg back on under the cover of my jacket. Someone had remembered to bring that along. I let her borrow it. She had a window seat, but didn't look out. Instead, she scrunched against me. Her head and shoulders were drawn in as if imitating a turtle. She buried her face against my shoulder.  
  
Misato looked ready to snap at me at any moment, but she held back when she saw Midori. She settled for glaring. The moment that we touched down at the brightly lit airfield, the agents herded us into a building. Midori and I went to separate rooms. Misato went with Midori.  
  
The less said about the interrogation, the better. The interrogator sprayed me with spittle every time he asked a question. His body and breath smelled like garlic and onion. He must have smeared whole cloves into the flapjack-size sweat spots pooled around his chest and under his arms. His Secret Service partner pounded the table with his fist and told me that I'd better answer if I knew what was good for me; this was while I was answering the question. Somewhere in the middle of the muddle, the ID-2 agent asked me the carnal, unlawful knowledge bit. Anytime that I tried to look away from them, they flashed a ceiling mounted light into my face. There was one-way glass set into the side of the room. I got the dentist's lamp again when I tried to look at it.  
  
A bit past eleven, they finished with us. The table pounder escorted me to meet Misato and Midori in the basement parking lot. Fortunately there wasn't anyone else around, because I was still sporting the robe and skivvies. I could only imagine running into Rei. Midori also still wore the motel robe with a pair of hospital slippers to finish her outfit.  
  
I tried to apologize, but Midori told me not to worry about it.  
  
I got shotgun.  
  
Two ID-2 black sedans escorted Misato's Renault. Misato was quiet. She drove with a frown on her face. Midori didn't say much either. She was fidgety the whole way home. When I looked back at her, she gave me a small smile. The quiet was probably for the best.  
  
After Misato pulled a hair raising turn into the condo parking lot, Midori got out first, which left me in the passenger's seat alone with Misato. I had released the seat belt and made a move for the lock, when Misato clamped a vise grip over my upper arm.   
  
"Never, ever go off like that again," she snapped into my ear and then pulled me into a bone wrenching hug. That was unexpected. I don't know if Midori saw it or not, but she didn't say anything as we ascended the elevator to the condo.  
  
"Welcome back," Misato said wearily to me at the entrance.  
  
"Glad to be back," I replied around a yawn.  
  
"Sorry to intrude," Midori intoned around the second yawn.  
  
"No trouble," Misato answered as she completed the yawning circuit.  
  
We grabbed a quick meal of cup ramen and nuke 'n puke cuisine. [7]  
  
"Just like Mama used to make," Midori quipped.   
  
After eating and using the bathroom, Midori crashed in my room.  
  
Misato talked at me for a bit and then set me to write my part of the report. She tried to start on her paperwork.  
  
It should have really ended there, but there were still a few minutes left in Sunday. The weekend wasn't done with me yet.  
  
Fifteen before the witching hour, Misato had staggered out to the convenience store for beer. She asked me if I wanted anything. I asked for spicy beef jerky. After she left, I stared blankly at the computer screen for a spell. I was too tired to think.   
  
I decided to pull on some real clothes before beginning the report. I slipped into my room and left the door cracked open. It didn't feel quite right, closing the door while Midori was in there. I dropped my robe on the ground; I would take care of it later. I chose out a pair of jeans. Midori clutched a pillow and mumbling something about a pool. I dressed in the dark, because I didn't want to wake her.  
  
I heard the outside door open. Must be Misato, thought I. Asuka usually rumbled in like a semi.  
  
The bed was occupied, so I wrestled on my pants while standing. I managed to trip myself. I stumbled and stubbed my toe against the metal bed frame. I suppressed yelp and performed a silent one-footed dance, before landing butt first onto the bed. Midori mentioned an inflatable chocobo while she curled an arm around my shoulder. She shifted. Something warm and slimy slapped me on the cheek. Her other hand curled around my waist.  
  
That was when the door slid open. The black silhouette of my other housemate appeared at the entrance to my closet.  
  
"Are you-?" Asuka began. Her mouth opened, but forgot to close.  
  
The her long shadow fell on me. My pants were around my knees. Asuka's nostrils flared as she scanned the scene. Her right brow began twitching dangerously. I suddenly felt more awake. With my improved perceptions, I noted that two pairs of robes had been discarded near the door. A lacy and black bra and matching panties lay were they had fallen, closer to the bed. Midori's prosthetic leg lay at the foot of the bed. The flappy object that had hit my cheek was pink and tubed shaped; it was that damned condom again. I suddenly recalled that Midori had worn my jacket on the ride here and had been fiddling with something in her hands.  
  
A hand pulled from around my waist to join the other in circling my shoulders. Midori pulled me against her to nestle her chin on my shoulder. The sheets rustled as she moved. She opened one drowsy eye. First she looked at me and then at Asuka.  
  
A heavy duffel bag dropped from Asuka's hand.  
  
"Asuka? Is he in there?" Hikari asked from the hall. "Are you OK?"  
  
Hikari froze at the doorway and clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh... myyyy... Gawd," she gasped.  
  
Midori surveyed the whole scene through her half opened eye. She turned back to me.  
  
"Shin-chan" the high schooler said sleepily. "Sure, you can come back in, it's wet and warm. So as long as you put on the duck suit again."  
  
The following hush was palpable. An aghast class rep gulped panicked breathes. Her freckled cheeks blushed ketchup red. Hikari backed away until her back bumped against hallway wall. Once there, her knees gave way.  
  
Asuka's eyes flicked back and forth, back and forth between Midori and I. My gaze shifted back and forth between Asuka and Midori. My mind was blank. My tongue was frozen. My bladder pressure became intense.  
  
Asuka pulled in a long breath. I was sure that she was going to blow out my ear drums and shatter the window before pouncing. Her hands trembled as she glared down at me. A vein stood out on her forehead. Unexpectedly, she stayed silent. The red haired girl hauled her bag up. A breath might have caught in her throat as she whirled away. The door slammed close behind her.  
  
Midori released me, rolled, over and eased back to sleep wearing an expression of blissful serenity. Lucky her.  
  
Later, I risked a late call to explain, but I didn't get anywhere with that.  
  
At least it's Monday now, and the weekend is finally over.  
  
[7] I forgot where I got this term from, it might have been from Dr. Akagi. It fits Misato's evil smelling concoctions well.  
  
PASSWORD LOCKED 


	10. Epilogue: Where's the Wapner?

One Weekend  
  
Epilogue: Where's the Wapner?  
  
The disheveled boy woke up to the sounds of cooking. His computer had gone idle. The screen played green images of flying toasters. He wiped a hand across a sandy eye.  
  
"I had the best dream," Midori said to Misato. The thin girl ladled a bowl of rice porridge for the woman. Midori placed a bowl in front of Shinji along with a spoon. She laid a quick peck on his cheek. "You're starting to grow a mustache."  
  
Shinji groaned.  
  
"It's nearly half past nine," Misato groused over a cup of coffee. "I let you sleep in, but if I gotta be up, so do you. Shinji, you've got ten minutes to get ready. Rei'll be here in a few minutes."  
  
"Okay," the boy intoned in a dead tone and shuffled to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet. He blanked out to the sound of rushing water. Shinji awoke for a few seconds to splash some water on his face and managed to turn the faucet off. He re-entered his room to haul on a white shirt and slacks before returning to the table.  
  
"Good morning," Shinji yawned out to Misato and Midori. Shinji struggled to stay awake as he ate a spoonful of the hot porridge. It was plain and bland, which suited him. He already felt nauseous. The boy drooped over his bowl and fell back into half-waking dreams.  
  
A pale hand gently shook him awake.  
  
"We must go," Rei said.  
  
"Thank you for the feast," Shinji replied automatically. "Thanks," he yawned to Midori as he unconsciously took his school bag and a box from her.  
  
"Have a nice day, honey," Midori called.  
  
"Later," Misato said.  
  
In the parking lot, a black sedan with darkly tinted windows waited for them. A pair of powerfully built guards occupied the front seats. Shinji slumped in the back seat and automatically buckled on his seat belt. Rei sat down silently.  
  
The boy let his head drop back into the seat and let his eyes close for a moment.  
  
"Shinji, do you trust me?" Rei asked.  
  
"Hmmm, yeah," the boy replied. He struggled to stay awake.  
  
"When we get to school, follow Suzuhara."  
  
"Okay," he yawned. "Follow Touji."  
  
They lapsed back into silence. Traffic flowed smoothly in the depopulated metropolis. The NERV vehicle pulled up to the front of the school. Shinji emerged from the car to stretch and yawn. With his still arms in the air, his face froze at the end of the yawn as he stared into the exploding flashes of over a dozen cameras. A sports blazer was flung over his head.  
  
"Move it!" a gruff voice barked. He saw the muscular agents charge forward before him as they sprinted through the gauntlet. There were surrounded. Caught in the crossfire, flashes exploded one after another. Mercilessly, they shot over and over.The clicking and snapping didn't stop until they were through the school gates.  
  
The jacket came from Shinji's head as they paused. The boy hunched over to catch his breath. The long weekend and one and a half hours of sleep had sapped his strength. Rei leaned close to him to whisper into his ear.  
  
"Will you take me next time?" Rei asked. " When you go dancing."  
  
At that moment, he noticed that Rei carried an extra bag with her.  
  
Before Shinji could answer or ask her about the bag, he heard applause, whooping, and cheering. Most of the male population of Tokyo-3 Municipal Junior High School gave him a standing ovation. Several boys who wore the local high school uniform mixed in the crowd. They whistled and brandished full color newspapers featuring Shinji's face. Most of the shots showed him staring into the camera with his mouth slightly agape, looking like a jacklit deer ready to mowed down by oncoming traffic.  
  
Shinji mirrored the snapshot as he caught a glimpse of the headlines.  
  
"How is your Gov't Money being Spent?"  
  
"NERV Casanova: Are Your Daughters Safe?"  
  
"Love Motels and Sexual Predators!"  
  
Shinji looked around for Rei, but she had already disappeared. The NERV agents shepherded him past the crowd. It was dark inside the school. The agents left him at an empty classroom. He looked at the blackboard. It was blank. He took his usual seat. Even Ayanami Rei's empty seat seemed out of place. He switched on his computer, but did not see any bulletins.  
  
He did not have to face Hikari or Asuka, but the eerie emptiness outweighed his relief.  
  
The classroom door flew open. Kensuke and Touji stood at the door.  
  
"We're all in the gym," Touji said gravely. "Please come with us."  
  
Shinji packed his laptop back into his bag to follow.  
  
"Boy, am I glad to see you guys," Shinji began, but cut off at the stony expressions and silence. Follow Suzuhara, Rei had said. He followed them out of the room and down a dimly lit set of stairs to the gym. The doors boomed open into the cavernous room. Furniture had been carefully arranged in the room.  
  
A podium was set up at the end of the gym. A desk sat the left of the podium. A pair of tables were positioned at before the podium. One table had one folding metal chair, the other had two. Pitchers of water and drinking glasses sat at the podium and tables. Six seats were lined up to the left of the podium. Another desk faced the six chairs. A row of chairs sat behind the tables. Behind that row, a full house of seats were soldiered behind the table. A pair of ropes and stands divided the block of seats from the rest of the arrangement, while leaving an aisle in the middle.  
  
The two boys led Shinji down the aisle to the table with two seats.   
  
"Please be seated," Kensuke said. "I'm sorry Shinji, but the red baroness asked me and I just couldn't refuse."  
  
"What's going on?" Shinji asked.  
  
"I'm sorry, I just got no luck in rock-paper-scissor," Touji said.  
  
At that moment, the doors burst open. The blue jumper and white shirt clad crowd of junior high girls filed in. Their polished shoes clicked against the waxed wooden boards. They marched in ruled columns and rows from the front of the gym toward the back. As one body, the female studentry took their places before the massed seats. At the other end, two girls held a pair of double doors open for Hikari to march through. She home in onto the podium wearing. The class rep wore a blue robe and a stony expression. Six more female students filed in to take the six chairs to the side of the podium. A girl took the one desk facing the six.  
  
Asuka came in, wearing a red pin-striped corporate skirt-suit. Her legs were clad in black stockings. Her black low heels pounded on the floor like hammers. The girl took the table with the lone seat. She did not spare Shinji a single glance as she crisply arranged her laptop and papers. When she was finished, she glared at Shinji and bared her teeth at him. Her iron cross earrings danced from her sharp motion.  
  
Several moments later, the doors opened once again to admit Ayanami Rei. The pale girl wore pure white from her skirt-suit down to her stockings and pumps. In her ears were pearl studs, and a pearl choker ringed her neck. She marched to Shinji's table. Before sitting, she gave a nod to Touji, who nodded back. The boy smelled the scent of white plum blossoms from her.  
  
"I am glad that you trust in me," Rei whispered to Shinji.  
  
Shinji nodded slowly. He could feel hundreds of glares searing into a single point on his back. Sweat slowly trickled down between his shoulder blades.  
  
"I smell a traitor and a rat," Asuka hissed over to Shinji table.  
  
"I didn't say nothing about telling Ayanami," Touji shot back.  
  
The doors closed with a bang. Hikari picked up the mallet and pounded on a wooden block. The class rep's voice was amplified by microphone.  
  
"Order in the court, order," Hikari intoned. "Jury, advocates, bailiffs, observers, please take your places. Recorder, are you ready?"  
  
"Ready, ma'am," the girl answered from her lone desk. She poised her fingers over her laptop.  
  
Touji punched Shinji lightly on the shoulder as encouragement. Touji and Kensuke moved to flank the podium. One girl took each corner of the room.  
  
"We are here to see that justice is served," Hikari said. "Today, we are here for the trial of Ikari Shinji. This case is Womankind versus Ikari Shinji."  
  
Shinji gagged on the glass of water that he'd been sipping.  
  
"Mr. Ikari Shinji has been charged with lewd conduct, underage use of a hotel room, and seduction of a minor. How would you like to plead?"  
  
Rei immediately stood up. "Not guilty to all of the charges, your honor," her sotto voice carried throughout the quiet gymnasium. She sat back down.  
  
"Opening statements. Prosecutor," Hikari directed curtly.  
  
Asuka pushed back her seat and stood to address the jury.  
  
"Today, I will prove without the shadow of a doubt that Ikari Shinji is a two-faced conniving trickster who is guilty of all of these charges brought against him," the girl declared. She moved like a composer. Cutting gestures and flourishes were punctuated with a stabbing finger, which was usually directed at one Ikari Shinji. "While he wears a mask to the rest of the world, it has fallen off during the past weekend and shown his base character. This case has been well documented in various media. There are numerous eyewitnesses. The proof is incontrovertible, irrefutable, and invincible.  
  
"I am supremely confident that justice will be served today."  
  
"Thank you. Opening statement, Defense," Hikari ordered.  
  
Rei addressed the jurors.  
  
"Today, my client will be shown innocent of all charges. Even if I had not heard his testimony before a NERV inquiry last night, I would believe in his sound character," Rei began calmly.   
  
Shinji perked his ears at her statement. Could she have been behind the glass?  
  
"He has protected this city in the past," Rei continued crisply. "His role has created unique circumstances, which could be misconstrued. These accusations against him stem from a single vindictive mind. Media brings an outside perspective and can distort the picture. By reducing these outside factors, the truth about Ikari Shinji's situation can be reached."  
  
"First," Asuka murmured intensely. "There is no way that I will loose to you."  
  
The doors opened again.  
  
Midori walked in wearing a reddish orange button down, worn jeans, and tennis sneakers. She smiled and waved happily to Shinji. Misato followed. They took two seats in the single row behind the advocates' tables. Misato carefully crossed her legs.  
  
"Major Katsuragi. Ito Midori. Thank you for joining us," Hikari announced.  
  
"Hey, that's my shirt!" Asuka snapped at Midori.  
  
"It's Shin-chan's," Midori said. "Misato said so. Besides, it smells like him."  
  
"How would Misato know?" Asuka argued.  
  
"That's where it went," Shinji blurted out.  
  
A low "Ohhh" circulated through the crowd.  
  
"If you want it, you can have it!" Midori announced. Her hands grasped the collar as if to tear the buttons  
  
Shinji sank into his seat.  
  
Kensuke's face sank to his hands.   
  
Touji whooped. "Take it off! Take it all off!"  
  
A mallet pounded savagely. And Misato sat back to watch the show.  
  
========  
  
A/N: On my website, I have addressed a pair of comments in the reviews. One is about the use of Midori instead of Rei. The other talks about Midori's prosthetic leg. 


End file.
